Not that it could not have been worse. He had a tidy and warm indoors job, he did not have to slosh around in muddy yards or sell his blood for shady organisations. All things considered this was a halogene-lit urban paradise.

Quir probably enjoyed the outdoors, even with the current weather.

Perhaps he should try to enjoy the indoors a bit more.

The world did not make the Monday very easy to enjoy. Yes, there was free coffee, but it came with stupid people and their inane questions, egotistical bosses who pushed his patience to its limits, and noise. It was not even good coffee.

Every second he could feel migraine sneaking closer and closer. Whoever had decided open offices were the future deserved to die in a fire.

But he had to remain calm.

A quick glance at the clock revealed he would only have to put up with this for fifteen more minutes. He could do fifteen - after that he would go home, sleep until the evening, and not talk to anyone face to face until next week.

Except for Cail. And Quir. Not a single day passed without him chatting with both of them.

The topics could not have been different between the two. With Quir the text messages and phone calls were always full of unspoken questions.

At least for him. At least for him, "come over" was also "are you alive, are you well, are you safe" and "I'm your brother / You're my sister", and "I hate you / I hate having to take care of you", and "you're the only one who understands."

Perhaps for Quir, "come over" only meant to come over.

Ten minutes. He started to gather his things.

With Cail, there was no weight from the past to bury in their words. Cail was all future, or here and now. Potential. Dreams.

Cail loved Nerion for reasons Nerion could not understand.

Love, he had learned, had very little to do with understanding and nearly everything to do with acceptance.

He had accepted Cail loved him. On most days he could accept he loved Cail back, loved so much it hurt. And when it hurt, his love became a prickly hedgehog. Nim, Cail's sister, hated it.

Cail loved Nerion despite it.

Five minutes. He tossed his coat on.

Cail and Nim and movie night on Friday, Quir and cooking on Saturday. The rest of the days would be for him. For nightmares, guilt, trying to cope, trying to forget, trying to apologise, trying to sleep.

Finally the day was over and he could escape the office. It was pouring.

He did not have an umbrella today.

With gritted teeth he moved under the nearby bus shelter. The next bus to take him home would not leave for another hour.

Just his luck.

But he had to remain calm.

He put on his headphones, opened his phone and selected a game. Sounds and colours drew him in enough to pass time, but not enough to distract him from his surroundings.

The only other person at the stop was a girl, maybe seven, sitting on the bench and staring blankly into the distance. Long wait, Nerion guessed and thought nothing of it.

Cail said once he loved Nerion for being perceptive, ambitious and devoted to his work. The latter two Nerion could understand and agree with, but perceptive?

That was Quir, even when Nerion understood where the misconception came from.

Quir was perceptive, but rarely paid conscious attention. Details scattered from her head as easily as dandelion fluff in the wind, which easily gave the impression of her being more aloof of the two.

Nerion was less perceptive, but he paid close attention to everything, all the time. He missed small sounds and sights Quir's hypersensitive nerves picked up, but in most cases it was the conscious effort that made all the difference.

He paid attention to the people who got on and off vehicles, in case anyone would look at him too long or too curious. Buses came, stopped and continued again, spitting people out and picking up those who had been waiting, their lines like spears aimed towards the heart of the city.

The kid did not move.

When his bus was fifteen minutes away it was just him and the girl again.

He made note of how she did not look at the schedules on the screen, nor the clock, but instead kept staring wishfully into the crowd. Her jacket was open. No phone, nothing to fiddle with.

Her eyes were waiting for something to happen.

He lowered his phone.

"Hey." Not a greeting as much as just a sound to get her attention. She turned obediently to him, eyes large and tired.

Just three years ago Quir had looked at him like that about everything.

"Are you lost?" He filed away the memory of Quir's expression. It slotted neatly right next to the guilt screaming "my fault".

The girl nodded and started to chew on her lower lip, before speaking up.

"There's a big clock at the railway station. I was supposed to go wait there."

"You're not badly lost, then. The bus station is on this side, the railway station on the other side." Nerion put his phone away and anchored his focus to the girl. His thoughts were threatening to get away from him.

He needed to stay calm.

"Come on," he said and stood up when the girl did not move. "I'll show you where it is. All you have to do is cross over there and go around."

As soon as the girl stood up, Nerion started walking. Over the crossing, around the corner.

Quir had always waited for him there if she had to go out for some reason and he could not immediately come pick her up. The familiar dread rose in Nerion's throat when they got closer, a taste of bile that made him instinctively glance towards the large clock, in case he was late, worried about seeing-

- no Quir.

Of course not. Only a strange woman who the girl ran to. A mother, based on how her face was etched with worry. It lit up with relief when she saw the girl running towards her. Worry, relief, pride.

Nerion gritted his teeth and turned on his heels. With any luck he could still make it to his next bus. The sooner he was home, the better.

He needed to stay calm.